Violet
by totallyrandomwigs
Summary: Violet and Victor are twins who have had their lives planned out. Victor is to be a midshipman on the HMS Surprise and Violet is to married. To escape, Violet dresses as a boy and takes her brothers place on the Surprise. They're identical, surely no one will know the difference? (Read and Review, I'd like to know what you think)
1. Chapter 1

**1. Let's Switch**

Victor and Violet DuVere had always done everything together. They were twins (Victor being the oldest by a mere half an hour), and identical. They had matching wide brown eyes, wavy brown hair, snub noses and wide grins. In their youth, back when Violet was still allowed to wear breeches, they could impersonate each other and enjoyed confusing everyone. They were inseparable.

But of course, people change. Victor grew taller, his voice changed and he had to begin shaving. Violet had to start wearing dresses, grew her hair long, and had to wear it up, because proper ladies didn't wear breeches and such.

Mrs DuVere was very keen on Violet's being a 'proper lady' just as Mr DuVere was keen on Victor being a 'proper man'.

'I don't know what to do with her.' Mr DuVere sighed one sunny afternoon. Victor and Violet were playing in the garden with the dogs, and Violet was laughing and running. 'She's…well, there's no getting around it. She's simply mannish.'

Mrs DuVere was A Lady (with a capital L). She had been extremely beautiful in her youth, graceful, accomplished, everything a young woman was supposed to be. She had big plans for her daughter. When Violet was born, Mrs DuVere assigned the care of her twin baby boy entirely to her husband, and waited for her baby girl to grow into a replica of herself. She was disappointed. Physically, Violet was entirely different. She was small and thin, her mother was tall, with womanly curves. Her mother was confident and practical, Violet was shy and a daydreamer. However, they did share the same temper and stubborn nature, which caused many a disturbance in the household.

Despite their differences however, Mrs DuVere assumed her daughter would share her own goal of a suitable marriage. 'And I know just the man.' Mrs DuVere confided to her husband.

As Violet entered the hall, she heard voices in the drawing room, and quickly darted up the stairs to hide. Her dress was muddy and crumpled, and her hair had fought its way out of the elaborate bun her mother had forced it into. She was also sure she had a scratch on her cheek. In a word, she looked a mess. _If we have guests Mother won't want me to be seen like this, _she thought to herself. She peeped through the banisters to see who was visiting. It was five o'clock now, and people didn't visit that late.

A tall, well built man with fair hair and a coat in the latest style strode confidently down the hall. His ice blue eyes flicked up and saw Violet peeping, and he smiled. It wasn't a nice smile, more like a crocodile smiling at its next meal, and Violet shivered. His name was Edward Hemps, and Violet couldn't stand the man. Oh, he certainly handsome, and he could be charming and amusing when he wanted. But his perfect smiles never reached his perfect eyes. Lately, he'd seemed to bestow more of his perfect smiles on Violet, which she chose to ignore. He had married young (for a man), barely twenty, and quickly fell out of love with his insipid bride and into hate.

Margaret had been one of Violet's friends, a rather silly, romantic girl, very beautiful, and idolised Edward. He soon regretted his marriage, as she had little personality and less money. She began to get in the way. Edward began to drink and gamble again (he had never really stopped, but he became more open about it again). He brought back numerous dancing girls and opera girls to his home under his wife's very nose. Edward's parents and siblings blamed Margaret for this, and he soon began to believe it was all indeed his poor little wife's fault. He convinced himself it was really her fault when he would come home drunk and beat her and throw her down the stairs. Poor Margaret never stood a chance.

The family and Edward came up with some story or other when Margaret was found dead. They had a brief, cheap funeral and his mother instantly set out to find her son a 'proper' wife. Most people knew that Margaret had been viciously beaten to death.

'I can't understand,' Violet had sobbed to her brother one evening, 'how people can just…forget! They act as if he was never married!'

'Edward is rich,' Victor shrugged, 'Margaret was not.'

So what was this man doing here today? Violet wondered. Surely her mother had not invited him.

'Violet dear,' Mrs DuVere called from the drawing room. 'Come in here.' she was sewing, and only looked up when Violet sat down in front of her. When she looked up, she gave a sort of squawk. '_Violet_! What _do_ you think you look like? Oh, I do hope Edward didn't see you like that!'

_Edward?_ Violet thought, _not, 'Mr Hemps? _'Why was he here?'

'Oh, darling, I was hoping to wait till your father was finished speaking to Victor. But no matter. Edward came here to ask for our – your father and I – our consent to ask for your hand! Isn't it wonderful?'

Violet was dumbfounded. 'You…he…'

'Ah, you're speechless. I don't blame you. After all, he's so rich and handsome…and so charming. And, well, not to hurt your feelings dear, but there are so many prettier girls than yourself he could have fixed on. He says he has distinguished you with special attention for a while now, but you are so stupid, I doubted you had noticed. And you haven't. Now, we were thinking of perhaps a June wedding, I had one, and they're very a la mode nowadays and…'

'Wait,' Violet interrupted. 'You mean Edward Hemps wants to marry me?'

'Yes dear, it's absolutely…'

'I can't marry him. I won't. You can't make me.'

'What? Why ever not? He's a lovely young man.'

'He killed Margaret. I hate him.'

'Who? Oh, that silly little airhead. No, no dear, that was an accident. A burglary or something of that nature. A nasty accident, they were ever so upset.'

'It was _not_ an accident. He killed her! She told me how he used to beat her?'

Mrs DuVere grew angry. 'You are being silly. He did not kill anyone. He's just a little rough around the edges, that's all. Nothing a nice, gentle, pretty wife can't smooth out. You've always been ungrateful, that is your trouble, young madam. Men like Edward don't come along every day, and they aren't usually interested in silly little spoilt brats like you. Edward is coming tomorrow at noon to ask for your hand. You can say no if you like, but you forget you are only sixteen years old. It is not for you to say 'yes' or 'no' to whom you choose. Your father and I will decide, and it is decided. You will marry Edward, so I suggest you make your peace with this.' With that, Mrs DuVere got up and swept out of the room.

Violet stormed up to her room and closed the door quietly. She wanted to slam it with all her might, then throw herself on her bed and scream and cry. But that would accomplish nothing. _What can I do? What can I do?_ She thought frantically to herself over and over. Nothing came to mind.

_I won't marry him. I'll kill myself first. I won't do it. They can't make me. Oh yes they can. They will. What can I do?_ She nearly jumped out of her skin as someone tapped softly on the door. It was far too gentle a knock to be her mother, and her father hadn't come to speak since…well, ever.

'Vi, it's me.' Victor's muffled voice came.

'Oh. Come in.'

He quietly let himself in and turned the lock. He turned and stood with his back to the door for a second or two, unsure of what to say. 'Mother…told me. About this business with you-know-who.'

'They're going to make me marry him.' Violet's face and voice was muffled in a pillow, so he couldn't tell if she was crying or not.

'They can't make you.'

'Yes they can.'

Victor crossed the room and sat down on the end of the bed. He was taller than Violet, but still a slight young man with delicate, almost feminine features. Mr DuVere despaired as his son chose books over hunting, and preferred studying animals to guns and shooting.

'I'm leaving tomorrow.' Victor sighed. Violet sat up and turned to face him, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a blotchy face. 'What? Leaving? Why?'

Victor breathed in deeply. 'Father said he's had enough of me, that I need a trade. He wants me to be a sailor.'

'Didn't you tell me you want to study animals? Your professor thinks you could get a job over in Brazil.'

'He just laughed, said that wasn't a man's job. He's already got me a position as a midshipman on the HMS Surprise. I leave tomorrow, early.'

Violet was shocked by how hollow and dead her brother's eyes were. 'But…there's talk about a war with Napoleon. Surely…you might be killed!'

'I might. I'm a huge disappointment anyway. Father probably won't mind as long as I die with honour.'

Violet was filled with sad anger and empty rage. 'It's not fair.'

'No. The professor…' he hesitated. 'Maybe I shouldn't tell you.'

'What? What? Tell me!'

'The professor did mention a colleague of his out in the Brazilian rainforest, a Dr Barks, who asked him to find a young man to train up. The professor recommended me. He said…he could organise a passage for me. It leaves tomorrow at five o'clock in the morning. I don't know if I should go or not.'

Violet's eyes were glinting. She picked up a book from beside her bed; it was one of her favourites. It was called _Twelfth Night._ 'I have a brilliant idea that might save both of us.' She whispered. Her brother arched an eyebrow. His twin's ideas tended to get them into trouble. Especially the 'brilliant' ones.

'What's this 'brilliant' idea then?'

Violet grinned. 'Let's switch.'


	2. Chapter 2

**2. Seasick**

_For the purposes of this fanfic, Midshipman Peter Calamy is alive and well._

Victor just looked at his sister for a minute or two. Then he burst out laughing. 'Oh, alright, very funny…'

'What's so funny?' Violet was slightly irritated.

'Well, I'm presuming you mean we switch places. We can't possibly do that. It's all that…' he gestured at the copy of _Twelfth Night_ she was holding in her hand. '…sort of thing that you're reading.'

'Look, just listen for a minute.'

Victor sighed but said nothing, which she took as a sign to continue.

'Here is the plan. Does Father intend to see you off?'

'Yes, but I'm making my own way from here to Portsmouth. It's not too far. I'm going on horseback.'

'Right. Well, you dress up in your new uniform and leave as usual. Go up to the old church and I will meet you there. We'll swap clothes.' She sat back, pleased with her plan. Victor raised a disbelieving eyebrow. 'So I meet you at the old church.'

'Yes.'

'So you have my midshipman's uniform and all that,'

'Yes.'

'…and I wear your dress…'

'Yes…No! Vic, you're not taking this seriously!'

Victor giggled.

'Sorry. Sorry. I will be serious. I promise.'

'Look, this is no laughing matter! I'm going to have to agree to marry Edward Hemps, and probably get beaten every time I get on his nerves, and you're going to have to go to sea, and be a sailor for the rest of your life, and probably get killed, because you're a rotten shot.'

Victor sobered up quickly. 'Alright, when you put it like that…'

'Listen. I'll just pretend to be you, and you can sneak off and get on that ship to Brazil. Then there'll be nothing Father can do.'

Victor considered it. He wanted so much to go to Brazil, and study the animals and plants out there. It would be wonderful. But he couldn't allow Violet to go in his place on the ship. It was just too dangerous. Presuming, of course, they even believed she was really a boy.

'I can't.' he said aloud. 'It's too dangerous. For you, I mean. And what would you do? They'd discover you eventually. You'd have to come home.'

'I've thought of that,' Violet grinned. 'The HMS Surprise is going to Spain first.'

'Yes. So what?'

'Do you remember Aunt Jane, Jane Tavers?'

'Oh yes, she was always very nice. We haven't seen her for years, ever since she had that falling-out with Mother and Father.'

'Exactly. Just after that, as she was leaving to go to Spain, she told me if ever I needed her help, I could come and see her. So when the ship docks in Spain, I will sneak off and go and find Aunt Jane. I'm sure she'd have no objection to me staying with her for a while. Eventually, I could maybe come out to Brazil and live with you, if she doesn't want me to stay permanently.'

Victor was silent. He'd initially had no intention of even entertaining Violet's suggestion, but it did seem as if she had it all planned out. Maybe…was it possible? There was one further objection, though. 'They'll never believe you're me.' He said aloud.

Violet's mind had been whirring at top speed. She'd always had a wonderful imagination, and now she was putting it to good use. 'They haven't seen you. Father only showed them a picture. I'm sure I'll fit into your uniform. Our faces are identical. You'll have to cut my hair, and I can guarantee with my hair cut like you, they won't know the difference.'

'Oh Violet,' Victor sighed, 'I don't know. I have a feeling this won't end well.'

'It's better than what will happen if I stay here and you go to sea!'

'But this rumour of war…it's far too dangerous for you!'

'We're not at war yet. Remember, once I get to Spain, I'll disappear. Even if they do look for me, they'll be looking for a young boy, not a girl.'

'Imagine what Father will say when he knows you've…well, me really…run away from the commission. He'll be furious.'

'It's a good thing he won't be able to get his hands on you then, or on either of us, really. Please say yes, Vic. This is as much for me as it is for you. I can't marry Hemps. I really can't.'

Victor relented. 'All right. All right, I'll do it.'

The sun was barely above the horizon, and the little village around the DeVere's house was not yet awake. The great house itself was certainly not awake, and would not be for several hours. Mr and Mrs DeVere were not early risers. Mr DeVere decided his son could quite easily see himself out of the house, and had departed the previous evening with instructions to send a note when he reached Portsmouth, and to 'Be sure to behave in a way to uphold the family name, my boy.'

'Not much chance of that.' Victor thought privately.

He was nervous. Suppose Violet was discovered before he could get out of the country? Suppose she was somehow hurt. Although, if he was honest, there was more chance of him getting wounded than Violet. She'd always been the faster runner, the better horse rider, certainly a better shot. His father had sometimes remarked bitterly that Violet was the better man out of the two. He'd already changed out of his uniform and folded it neatly, wearing instead his comfortable old clothes, not too fine. He didn't want people noticing and recognizing him.

'What took you so long?' he whispered when Violet finally arrived.

'I forgot the scissors.' She replied, 'I had to go back.'

She quickly changed. The clothes were heavier than she expected. The coat was stiff and uncomfortable, and she could hardly move her feet in the leather boots. Fortunately the waistcoat and trousers fitted well. She hoped the rest of the clothes locked in the trunk fitted well. Just in case, she'd brought a needle and some thread. Sewing wasn't her strong point, but surely it couldn't be too hard to alter the clothes.

'Now for my hair.' She decided, handing Victor the scissors.

'I don't think it's a good idea,' he objected. 'I'll make a mess of it.'

'It doesn't matter. It will grow.' She took a deep breath. 'Just hurry up. Get it over with.' she added the last part under her breath.

'_All _of it?'

'Well, no, just about to _here_, about the length of your hair.'

Violet's hair was to her waist, and soon she had a large pile about her feet. Victor did not do too badly, and when he finished, she turned to face him, and an onlooker would not have seen any difference between them. He smiled, and then she smiled, a perfect mirror reflection of each other.

They travelled together for some miles. A little way outside Portsmouth, they judged it prudent to separate. Victor looked for all the world like a young farmer, or farmer's son, with a grubby woollen cap pulled well down over his forehead and Violet like a young midshipman, with a brand new shining uniform.

'Goodbye.'

''Bye.'

Both wondered if they would see the other again. As they headed their separate ways, Violet felt strangely motivated to laugh and cry at the same time. 'Stop it,' she chided herself, 'you're a young man.'

All the same, she felt – there was no other word for it – frightened as she fought her way through the crowds. She was grateful the stiff boot soles gave her a few extra inches. People smiled approvingly at the young midshipman. As she made her way towards the docks, men smelling strongly of whiskey clapped her strongly on the shoulder (she was nearly knocked over more than once) and shouted, 'Good on yer, lad! Go and show old Boney what we're made of!'

The HMS Surprise was much, much bigger than she'd imagined. Violet stood for a few moments, staring open mouthed at the huge vessel.

'Takes your breath away, doesn't it?' a voice at her shoulder made Violet jump. She spun round to see a young man probably the same age as herself standing behind her. He was a handsome lad, with dark hair and blue eyes and a nice smile. He smiled now, shyly, and extended his hand. 'Mr Calamy at your service. I suppose you must be Mr DeVere?'

'Yes.' She smiled and extended her hand. 'What gave it away?'

'The uniform and the trunk.'

'Oh. Of course.' Violet felt rather silly, but he laughed good-naturedly.

They shook hands, and Mr Calamy offered to escort her onboard to meet the captain. 'Although it'll probably be Lieutenant Pullings you'll speak to.' Mr Calamy led the way across the crowded dock to where a tall young man was standing with his back to them. 'Mr Pullings, sir,' he began, 'this is the new midshipman.'

'Ah, Mr DeVere. You're a little late.' He turned around and surveyed Violet. She felt dwarfed next to him, and strangely nervous. He had long hair tied back, piercingly blue eyes, and an ugly curved scar on one cheek, marring an otherwise handsome face. His heart sank as he sized up their latest recruit. The boy clearly wasn't used to work. The hand he shook had a weak grip and had a ridiculously soft and smooth skin. _That won't last long._ He thought to himself. The boy looked younger than sixteen, if he was honest. He fitted the portrait, although he seemed somehow smaller and different, somehow. The clothes did not fit particularly well, which you wouldn't have expected of a well-off family like the DeVeres.

'Papers please.' He asked bluntly, and Violet handed them over without a word. Mr Pullings glanced up from his inspection of the papers to see her looking intently at him. This was somewhat new. Brand new midshipmen didn't give their superior officers so brazen a stare. They fidgeted and shuffled, shy and apprehensive. But no. this particular midshipman seemed confident, at ease, even. _He certainly is a funny looking boy, _Mr Pullings thought. _His face looks even more delicate than in the portrait. He can't be sixteen, surely. But then, why would he lie? Even if he was only ten years old, he'd still be allowed on board. Lord Blakeney is only twelve. Still, it's none of my concern. We'll make him or break him, I suppose. _He handed the papers back. 'Go with Mr Calamy on board, he will see to your luggage and teach you best he can about the ship. We leave with the tide.' And that was that.

Mr Calamy instructed two rugged looking sailors to get Violet's luggage on board a small rowing boat, and then they were off. The boat bounced about violently, and Violet felt a twinge of nausea. _Oh dear, _she thought, _I hope I won't be seasick. _It didn't seem to bother Mr Calamy and the two sailors in the slightest. The HMS Surprise loomed over them, blocking out the sun. Violet looked up at the huge ship, with its masts shooting up to the skies, rigging and sails flying out with the wind, and for the first time, she felt afraid. _I've never been on a boat before. _And then, _I do hope I won't have to climb the rigging. _The feeling of nausea and fear in the pit of her stomach got worse and worse and worse.


	3. Chapter 3

**3. Captain Aubrey**

Violet swallowed her fear and concentrated on behaving exactly as Victor would. Tomboy though she had always been, all those years of having to behave like a lady seemed to have rubbed off. Mrs DeVere had spent months teaching her daughter to fold her hands in a neat, ladylike way, "instead of letting them dangle awkwardly at your sides". However, any trifling worries were quickly chased away as the tiny boat got even closer to the giant ship. _How are we going to get up?_ Violet wondered. She'd imagined some sort of winch, but there was only a ratty rope ladder swinging freely right down into the water. Violet's heart sank right down into her stiff, uncomfortable boots. She'd always considered herself as rather nimble, but she'd grown rather soft of late. The side of the ship curved out, making the climb even harder.

_It's too late to change my mind now;_ Violet told herself firmly, _Victor may even be on the boat to Brazil by now. _The boat was alongside the ship by now. 'I'll go first,' Mr Calamy told her, 'then you, and your luggage will be sent up afterwards.' With that, he nimbly stepped out of the boat and swiftly climbed upwards. Despite her apprehension, Violet couldn't help admiring how easily he pulled himself up, almost as if he did this sort of thing every day. Although considering their occupation, she reflected gloomily, he most probably did. Before she knew it, he was peering over the wooden railing on the deck.

'Now you, laddie.' The sailor left in the boat grinned. _I bet he knows I'm scared,_ Violet thought. She got tentatively to her feet. The boat rocked slightly, and she froze. The sailor snorted. She reached for the ladder, hoping to steady herself on that, but the ladder seemed to be moving even more violently. Violet felt as if she was going to be sick. She looked up at the endless, uneven rope, and caught sight of a man leaning over the railings, watching. _Great, _she thought, _just what I need. An audience._

'I haven't got all day.' The sailor interrupted. Normally he would be in deep trouble for speaking to an officer like that, even a young officer, but he had an idea this young man hadn't the first idea about the rules, and wouldn't have the sense to tell tales.

Violet still couldn't bring herself to attempt the climb, but suddenly a vivid image popped into her head. Herself, in a hideous wedding dress, being dragged up a church aisle, her mother pulling her by one wrist, her father by another. And who was that waiting for her at the top, with that nasty smirk on his face and those cold eyes? Oh yes, of course, Edward Hemps. Without a second thought, Violet stepped onto the ladder and began hauling herself up relentlessly.

It wasn't entirely dissimilar from the rope ladder she and Victor had made, to climb up to their tree house. Of course, she hadn't climbed it for years; her mother had claimed it "was the sort of thing a _hoyden_ would do" whatever that was. It was certainly harder work than that short ladder, but she doggedly continued pulling herself up, but slower now. She only glanced down once, when she judged she was halfway. The sailor was looking up in amazement. He was impressed. It looked as if he was wrong about that lad, maybe he was made of stronger stuff than you'd think. 'Keep going!' he shouted. 'You're nearly there, don't look down!'

Mr Calamy was waiting at the top to help her over the railings. Unfortunately here, Violet let herself down. Climbing ungracefully over, she slipped as she tried to jump onto the deck, tried to save herself by catching hold of a rope, missed, and fell flat on the deck in an undignified heap. There were plenty of sailors on board to witness her humiliation, and everyone, even Mr Calamy, laughed uproariously. Red, Violet hastily jumped up and dusted herself down. The man who'd been watching her climb the rope ladder had disappeared.

'Come on,' Mr Calamy tried not to smirk, 'I'll show you around.'

Violet's eyes were round with wonder. The deck was huge, and seemed a chaotic mess of wood and rope, with dozens and dozens of men milling around. There seemed to be so many sails. Mr Calamy followed her gaze and started explaining what each sail was for and its names. He reeled off strange names, complicated processes, all at breakneck speed. Violet's head buzzed. She didn't know the first thing about sailing. Port and starboard was left and right, wasn't it? But which was which? What is aft? Which one is the mainsail? Surely she wouldn't have to climb up and tie back the sails! Or would she? Violet had had a vague idea of walking on the deck giving orders. Would she have to learn to handle the cannons? And all the knots! _This is ridiculous, _Violet thought in despair. _It's no good. I'll never learn all of this._

Captain Jack Aubrey had had a bad day. Nothing had gone right. First of all, he'd had to agree to transport quite a few crates of goods some merchant wanted shipping to Spain. Because said merchant was a good friend of Admiral Johnson, it wasn't really an option. So now they were stuck with several dozen large boxes of goodness knows what sliding around in the hold. Of course, the merchant was paying extra to get his goods there before the other merchant ships, but _he_, Jack Aubrey, wouldn't be seeing any of that money. Also, the Admiral's nephew was going to be a pain in the backside. Young Mr Edmund Johnson had just joined the crew as a midshipman, and accompanied them on their last, brief voyage. Six weeks at sea with him had been a definite trial. He still had not progressed in seamanship, and was still as incompetent and clumsy as ever. There would be no getting rid of him, not without seriously offending the Admiral. And Jack Aubrey wasn't the Admiral's favourite person to start with.

So Captain Aubrey was feeling gloomy and pessimistic about the journey ahead as he leaned over the side and watched a small boat containing Mr Calamy, Andy Hawkins (an able-bodied seaman) and what looked like the new midshipman. _Not very promising…_Jack sighed to himself, watching the young boy stand up and wobble in the boat. He was clearly working up the courage to begin his climb up the rope ladder. Mr Johnson had gotten stuck halfway up, and had to be persuaded to continue by the ship's doctor, Dr Maturin. _Is he a boy or a child? _Jack wondered to himself. The boy was thin and small, with a pale, pinched face. He looked scared, and Jack highly doubted that he was as much a sixteen. He continued to watch, and suddenly a change came over the boy. His face changed, set, somehow. He took hold of the rope firmly and began to haul himself up determinedly. He looked down once, but didn't waver, didn't go green and shut his eyes like Mr Johnson had done, and cling onto the rope for dear life. He reached the top in no time, and as he was climbing over he tripped and fell onto the deck with a resounding bang, then jumped up as quickly as possible, his face bright red. Jack chuckled to himself. Perhaps this young lad mightn't be so bad. _Can't be worse than young Edmund,_ he thought. _I'll just go and tell Stephen._ He turned and walked purposefully across the deck.

It seemed they were off at last. The chaos now seemed a little more organized to Violet. Mr Calamy's patience in explaining what was going on over and over again seemed to be paying off. 'So, what should I do?' Violet asked hesitantly.

'Just stay by me for now,' Mr Calamy replied. 'Watch what I do. Don't worry, one of the officers will explain properly what you're to do.'

'I'll never learn.'

'Oh, you will. I thought that when I started out. You'll pick it up.'

'Will I have to climb up,' Violet pointed up at the rigging, 'there?'

'Not to tie up the sails and that. Unless we're really desperate for help. You will have to go up _there_,' he pointed to a round platform about two thirds of the way up the mast, 'to go on watch sometimes. Just copy me and you'll be all right.'

Violet nodded. She was feeling better, and felt like she had a friend in Mr Calamy. He pointed out various crew members and their positions. The quartermaster, the first lieutenant (Mr Pullings, the scarred man she'd already met), the ship's doctor, and Dr Stephen Maturin. The latter was an absentminded looking man with his back to them, elbows on the railings and his chin in his hands, staring out to sea.

'Peter!'

Someone called Mr Calamy. A young boy, about twelve, with blonde curly hair and an angelic face came running up to them. It was obvious he and Mr Calamy were very good friends.

'Mr DeVere, this is Lord Blakeney.'

'Please call me William.' The young boy beamed, 'unless we're on duty. I hate all the Mr-this, and Mr-that.'

Violet smiled. 'I'm Viol…Victor.'

'My name's Peter, as you may have guessed.' Mr Calamy chipped in.

They talked quite easily for a few minutes. Violet noticed another young man in midshipman's uniform standing a way off. As she looked, he cast a quick glance in their direction, as if he would like to join but didn't quite dare. He looked quite a bit older, probably in his late twenties, which was old for a midshipman. He had quite a haggard, pale looking face. He caught her eye and she smiled, but he hastily turned his back.

'Who's that?' Violet asked Peter.

'Who? Oh, Mr Hollom. He's rather strange. You'll meet him tonight when we go to quarters.'

'Why, do share?' Violet felt distinctly uncomfortable with sharing with several men, even if they thought she was a man too.

'Yes. You'll have to put your hammock up. Shall we go and see to your luggage? The decks must be clear.' Peter led the way and Violet followed her head was buzzing. _Hammocks? I hadn't thought of them. How on earth do you sleep in one? And how am I going to deal with sharing sleeping quarters with all the other midshipmen? How will I _change clothes_? Oh dear. I'm starting to think I haven't thought this through at all. This is ridiculous. Why couldn't I have just gone to…to…_Scotland _or something? I am an idiot._

Peter led the way down a narrow, slippery wooden ladder down below decks. The air was thick and too warm below, and it smelt a little strange. It was crowded with sailors (some of which were in various stages of undress) they stepped aside and let Peter and Violet through, many looking curiously at the funny-looking young midshipman following Mr Calamy. _I suddenly feel very small._ Violet thought. She barely came up the shoulders of most of the men. The very thought of ordering them around, as an officer, made her want to laugh. The very idea. They wouldn't listen to her.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts she collided with a young man walking briskly out of the midshipman's quarters as they walked in.

'Watch where you're going.' He barked sharply. Then he stopped and surveyed her critically. 'You're the new midshipman.'

His arrogant tone annoyed Violet excessively. She went from being miserable and nervous to angry and irritated. He was a midshipman, same as her, so surely he didn't have the right to speak to her like that.

'Yes.'

He raised an eyebrow. He was a good half a head taller than her, quite a handsome looking young man of about seventeen or eighteen, with curly hair tied back in a ponytail.

Violet didn't know it, but he was rather put off by her sizing him up openly. She was more confident and had more strength of character than many her age, possibly created by years of clashes between her and her mother, over the lady her mother wanted her to be and the unfortunate reality. Her face was more or less an open book, and some people found such blinding honesty extremely discomforting.

'Well.' the young man finally managed to say. 'We'll see how you do.'

'Yes. We will.' And with that, Violet turned away, leaving him standing there, mouth slightly agape.

Peter giggled to himself. 'I see you're met our dear Mr Johnson.' He murmured when they were out of earshot.

'He's arrogant.'

'He doesn't have a reason to be. He's the worst sailor I've ever seen. He's only here because his uncle is an Admiral.'

'His uncle is Admiral Johnson? Even I've heard of him.'

Peter laughed. 'Yes, I gathered you didn't know who he was, or I suppose you'd have been more polite.'

'No, I wouldn't.'

Mr Johnson felt rather silly. His patronizing manner had backfired, and he was left standing like a stuffed banana in front of the crew, who were now tittering quietly. Although…he couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something definitely strange about that boy. For a start, he was certainly not sixteen.

On deck, Captain Aubrey barked out orders. Officers and seamen alike scuttled around the ship obediently. Gradually, the huge heavy ship came to life as they manoeuvred away from the dock. They were off.


	4. Chapter 4

**4. At War**

They'd only been at sea a few hours, and already Violet was feeling violently nauseous. She ran across the deck and threw up over the side. As she leaned over, feeling shaky, sick, and very silly, she thought, _I'm so glad Mother can't see me now. Throwing up over the side of a ship in front of the whole crew._ Sailors around her were laughing, but she guessed correctly it wasn't unusual for a new member of crew to spend the first day or throw being sick.

'Are you alright?' an unfamiliar voice came from behind her.

'Fine…' she mumbled, but didn't dare turn around. After a minute or two a hand appeared in her line of vision waving a clean handkerchief in front of her face. 'Go on.' The voice said.

Violet took the hanky and wiped her face and then she turned around. She recognized Dr Maturin, the ship's doctor.

'You're Dr Maturin, aren't you?' she asked. 'Mr Calamy pointed you out. You're the ship's doctor?'

'Yes,' he smiled awkwardly. 'And you are Mr DeVere, the new midshipman. Jack told me about you.'

Violet looked blank.

'That's Captain Jack Aubrey. It seems he was watching you brave the climb up here. It's always a good test of new seamen.' He gave a short laugh. 'I always dread it.' His gaze wandered from her to something in the distance. 'Look,' he pointed to a bird flying in the distance. 'I think it's an albatross.'

Violet turned to look.

'Don't tell anyone,' Dr Maturin smiled wryly, 'they'll probably try and shoot it. Everyone on board – Jack included – thinks they're unlucky. Although I suppose you do too.'

'Oh no. I don't see how a bird can bring bad luck.' Violet thought of her recent flight from home. 'We make our own luck by the decisions we make.'

'Hmm. Very deep for such a young man. Tell me, how old are you?'

'Sixteen.'

Dr Maturin gave her a look.

'Honest!' Violet protested. I'm just…small for my age. My father was like this when he was my age.'

Dr Maturin looked disbelieving but said no more. His expression suddenly changed as he spotted another bird. 'I've never seen one like that,' he exclaimed in delight. He suddenly dashed across the deck and down a hatch. _What on earth…_Violet thought in surprise. He reappeared a few moments later with a huge, well-thumbed book, and rushed across to his original spot, flicking through the pages as he went, only for the bird to be nowhere in sight.

'Oh, it's gone.' he muttered disappointedly, and closed the book with a bang.

'Are you interested in birds?' Violet asked

'I'm interested in most animals. You see all sorts of sea creatures and birds while we're at sea. Do you like that sort of thing?'

'Oh yes. My br…a friend of mine loved studying them.' Violet thought it prudent not to mention her brother, in case someone knew her father and realised that he only had one son. 'I used to look through his books and wish I could see the creatures for myself.'

'There's a good chance you might, once we get right out to sea. If we get a chance to have a look at any passing islands, you should come along. I've seen creatures that aren't in any books.' Dr Maturin was delighted to find someone who seemed to share his love of studying living creatures. 'You must step down to my quarters sometime; I've all sorts of books and specimens.'

'Stephen!' They were interrupted by a tall, well-built man striding up to them. Violet guessed immediately he was the captain. He was more or less what she'd expected, tanned, handsome, and confident. He also had golden, curly hair tied back in a ponytail. (Ponytails in men where the fashion of the time) 'Stephen, a word.' He looked down at the tiny midshipman. The ship heaved suddenly, and Violet grabbed the side and turned green. The captain snorted with laughter. 'Don't worry, son. You'll get your sea legs soon enough.' Then he and Dr Maturin walked away across the deck. The boat lurched again. _Not soon enough, _Violet thought queasily. The ship gave another almighty lurch. She lost her balance and staggered, but stumbled straight into the arms of midshipman Hollom.

'Oh, sorry,' she apologized, hastily disentangling herself from his arms, 'I haven't got my…' she remembered what Captain Aubrey had said, '…erm, my _sea legs_ yet.'

Mr Hollom smiled awkwardly. 'Oh, don't worry. You will. I mean, I did. It just takes time.'

'How long have you been a midshipman?' as soon as she'd said it, Violet regretted her words. Mr Hollom had a very embarrassed look on his face.

'Oh, years and years. I'm…twenty nine.'

Ah. Violet realised why he was embarrassed. He should really be a lieutenant by now.

'I'm sixteen,' she volunteered, and smiled at the surprised and doubtful look on his face. 'Yes, I know, I don't look it.'

'Oh, I wasn't going to say…'

'I've been told that's late to start as a midshipman?'

'Yes, most boys start at ten or twelve. I suppose you don't know the first thing about sailing?'

'Of course not, I'm hoping you and the other mids will teach me?'

'I don't see why not…'

They were interrupted by a shrill whistle.

'Ow.' Violet rubbed her ears. 'What does that mean?' (Peter had already explained that different whistles meant different things)

'It means the captain wants to address the crew.' Hollom took her elbow and steered her towards the helm, where the rest of the crew were already gathering. Men were climbing up out of the hatches, and Captain Aubrey, Dr Maturin and a few other officers were already standing on the platform where the helm was.

'This doesn't bode well.' Violet said aloud to no one in particular. She noticed Peter and William at her elbow.

'I shouldn't worry.' Peter said. 'The Captain often addresses us as we set sail.'

Violet said nothing. But she noticed the grim look on the captain's face. Dr Maturin was biting his nails, and seemed very different from the cheerful, if slightly sardonic doctor she'd conversed with a few minutes before. Violet looked around to mention this to Hollom, but noticed he was standing a good few feet away. He looked at her once, then his eyes flicked to Peter and he looked away. He had sad, puppy-dog eyes, she noticed. _I could be wrong, _Violet thought, _but there seems to be bad blood between Peter and Mr Hollom. I will see if I can find anything out later._

'Men, may I have your attention.' Captain Aubrey boomed out. There was instant silence. 'I know you are all expecting to sail to Spain, but I have had a last minute alteration from the powers that be, and I must inform you,' he paused. For once, the wind was still, and Jack's deep voice carried well. 'That we are at war.'

The crew gasped as one.

'We have been commissioned to pursue a French privateer, the Acheron, and we may sink, burn, or take her as a prize. I am convinced that fine men such as you…'

He carried on with an inspiring and uplifting speech, of which Violet heard not a word. They were at war. They were at war, and she was on a warship. They were not going to Spain. How would she get off this cursed ship? She couldn't, that's how. She was going to die, she knew it.


	5. Chapter 5

**5. All at Sea**

Violet stood, numbly, as Jack talked on. Her brain worked furiously. They weren't going to Spain. She had no way of getting to her aunt Jane's. Although, truth be told, she had been having worried of late. Firstly, she had only a vague idea where her aunt lived, and didn't speak Spanish. Also, she had exaggerated to Victor her aunt's readiness to help. Aunt Jane _had_ said something about always being eager to help her niece and nephew, but deep down Violet knew that it probably hadn't crossed her mind that her niece would turn up, alone, penniless, and in great need of help, on her doorstop. _But I suppose,_ she'd reasoned with herself, _once I'm there, she can hardly turn me away. I mean, she hates Mother and Father…surely she wouldn't send me back. I might only need to stay until Victor gets settled in Brazil._ She had then proceeded to calculate how long it would take Victor to travel to Brazil.

But what now? What on earth was she going to do now?

The crew dispersed. Jack stood thoughtfully watching them go. His eye fell on the little huddle of midshipmen still standing motionless on deck. Mr Calamy and Mr Blakeney seemed calm; excited even. Mr Johnson looked, quite frankly, terrified, Mr Hollom looked the same. Mr DeVere's face was harder to make out. There were several emotions struggling for precedence in his face. Fear was there, certainly, but there was definitely something else. He didn't seem to be listening to the chatter of the other midshipmen. He was staring into space, arms folded, with a set jaw. Absentmindedly, Jack noted to himself that he wasn't a bad-looking boy. He had a strange-looking face, that couldn't be denied, but he certainly grew on you.

It occurred to Jack that probably none of the mids had any sort of fighting experience. This very much needed sorting out.

He jumped down, landing with a _bang _on the deck which made the mids jump.

'Right, boys,' he began. They all leapt to attention (Violet last), and waited with bated breath. All expect Violet. She still had that dreamy expression, and her eyes were fixed vacantly on a spot above Jack's left shoulder. This annoyed him.

'Mr DeVere!'

No response. Mr Calamy nudged her.

'What…Oh, sorry sir.' Violet turned red.

'Pay attention.'

'Now, as we'll almost definitely be seeing some action, I think you lads would benefit from a few lessons in hand-to-hand combat and such. Mr Pullings and I will be teaching you when we have a spare moment. We'll be starting cannon practice tomorrow, first thing, but now we'd better establish who will need the most help.'

Mr Pullings was bringing out pistols and swords, and distributed them among the midshipmen.

'These will be yours. Take good care of them. Hands up who knows how to clean and fire a gun.'

They all put their hands up.

Jack nodded approvingly. 'Now, who here would say they were a decent shot?'

Violet put her hand up, and everyone looked sharply at her. _Oops,_ she thought, and slowly put her hand down. None of the other mids had raised their hands.

Mr Pullings and Jack exchanged glances.

'Right,' Mr Pullings muttered. 'We'll see how good you are. Come here.'

He took her over to the side, and pointed to a gull flying aimlessly above the ship.

'Shoot it down.'

Violet paled slightly. She hated shooting animals, especially birds. Birds seemed so beautiful and graceful in the air, and strangely vulnerable hopping on the ground, that it seemed a sin to shoot even the common sparrows and blackbirds.

'No.'

'Excuse me, boy?'

'I…I don't like to shoot birds.'

Mr Pullings turned around fully to face her, and stood only a few inches away. He noticed that she still had the boldness, the defiance in her eyes that he'd noticed when they'd first met, and despite the fact he was a good head taller than she, she didn't back away or even avert her eyes.

'Mr DeVere. We are at war. Killings birds is the least of your worries. Soon…perhaps sooner than you think…you may have to kill men. Now shoot it down.'

Violet said no more. She quietly checked the pistol she had been given, carefully took her aim, and fired. The shot echoed, and the bird plummeted to the deck, landing in a lifeless heap. Down in his study, Dr Maturin jumped.

Mr Pullings, Jack and the mids were speechless.

'Well,' murmured Mr Pullings, 'I haven't seen such a good shot in a midshipman since…well, since you, Captain.'

'Indeed.' was Jack's only reply.

'Right, you boys may go below now,' Mr Pullings announced several hours later. It was dark, and most sailors seemed to be retiring. They'd had plenty of instruction in hand-to-hand combat. Violet was secretly pleased that she was the best shot. It was nice to be commended on her favourite activities, the ones that her mother was so quick to scold her for.

'Mr DeVere, you're on first watch. You'll be relieved by Mr Johnson at midnight.'

Violet's heart sank. This was her first night on the ship. _Wonderful,_ she thought. _I'm exhausted and I won't be able to sleep for hours yet. And then I've got to try and get into that wretched hammock without waking the others. _

Soon it was only Violet left alone on deck. It was a clear night, and the full moon illuminated the ship and surrounded waters beautifully. The water was calm. The quiet noise of the sea and gentle rocking of the ship was surprisingly relaxing. For the first time for years, Violet felt…at home. She felt happy. Despite her tiredness, and the worries at the back of her mind, she would not have wished herself anywhere else.

Violet was leaning against the railings, half asleep, when someone tapped her shoulder. She jumped and spun around, startled. It was Mr Johnson.

'Hope you weren't sleeping on duty.' He asked sharply. Violet bristled at his tone.

'No. I wasn't. Anyway, I'm off.' She didn't want to waste time chatting. As she walked off, she heard Mr Johnson mutter, 'I can't believe I've been saddled with the midnight watch again. It's not fair.'

Violet couldn't resist a jibe. 'You could use the time to work on your aim.' She called back.

Mr Johnson shot daggers at her back as she disappeared below.

Violet made her way through the common sailors' quarters as quietly as she could. She cringed at every creaky floorboard, but no one stirred. The floorboards probably couldn't be heard above the crescendo of snores. _At least I don't have to sleep in this,_ Violet thought gratefully.

Once in the midshipman's quarters, she had another problem to contend with. _How on earth will I get onto this wretched thing? _She wondered in despair, looking at her empty hammock. It was swaying with the movement of the ship, and didn't look particularly comfortable. _I'll just have to try and jump into it._ She told herself.

The ensuing _crash_ woke the sleeping mids, and probably most of the common sailors, judging by the grumbles coming from those quarters.

'What is it?' Peter mumbled sleepily.

Mr Hollom looked over the side of his hammock. Of course, there was the new mid, lying on his back on the floor, his hammock swinging crazily.

'Ouch.' Violet groaned.

'It's just Mr DeVere.' Mr Hollom stifled a giggle. 'He's fallen out of his hammock.'

'Oh.' Peter made himself comfortable and went back to sleep immediately.

'Fallen out?' Violet grumbled, 'I can't damn well get in!'

'Here, I'll hold it steady for you.'

Ten minutes later there was silence again, and Violet was in her hammock, albeit very uncomfortably. She didn't dare move too much, for fear of falling out. It sounded as if Mr Hollom had gone back to sleep. _Well, there's nothing for it, _she told herself, _just go to sleep. You'll need it; tomorrow will probably be a long day._

If Mr Johnson had been paying attention on his watch, he might have seen a shape on the horizon that might be a boat. He might, if he had very good eyes, have seen the moonlight glint, very briefly, off a telescope aimed at the Surprise, before the ship slipped away and disappeared. Unfortunately, he was asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**6. The Acheron**

Days passed into weeks. Violet slowly became accustomed to the way of life on the ship. It felt as if she'd never lived anywhere but the HMS Surprise. Peter was right, after a while she learnt what all the commands meant and how to carry them out. Jack Aubrey taught all the mids how to navigate, and other skills they would need to sail their own ships.

'That new boy is learning fast,' Jack remarked to Stephen one evening. It was cold, foggy night, and the two men were down in the captain's cabin, Stephen looking over one of his books, and Jack tuning his violin.

'Mr DeVere? Yes, he's doing surprisingly well,' Stephen replied. 'He hasn't been plagued by seasickness like Mr Johnson and Mr Hollom were. Do you remember? Those two were ill for weeks.'

Jack smiled. 'How could I forget?'

Violet had made friends with Stephen. He so like Victor – absentminded, yet unbelievably clever, and he loved the study of nature. She often thought that he and Victor would have been great friends. Stephen was delighted to find someone who was interested in his pet subjects, and always had something new to show her.

'The men seem to like him,' Stephen added.

This was true; Violet had become popular in the few weeks she had been aboard. Unlike Mr Hollom, she didn't try to hard to make them like her; she subconsciously demanded respect.

Jack smiled to himself, remembering Mr DeVere's first cannon practice. He'd dutifully copied Mr Pullings in loading the guns, gave the appropriate orders, and then nearly jumped out of his skin at the ear-splitting _booms_. However, he'd not allowed his shock to slow him down, and had made record time for a new mid.

'His face when Mr Pullings ordered him to go up the fighting platform.' Jack said aloud, laughing a little.

'Oh, the poor boy. He looked terrified.'

Peter had quickly volunteered to go up, seeing the look of horror on his friend's face.

_He never did that for me._ Mr Hollom and Mr Johnson thought to themselves resentfully.

'No, no, I can do it.' Violet insisted. 'I'll have to go up sooner rather than later.'

Mr Pullings nodded approvingly.

Violet went to the side and pulled herself up to stand on the railings, steadying herself on the rigging, which slanted up and up to the fighting platform. She felt dizzy looking up at the endless mass of knotted ropes, so she looked down instead. That didn't help. The sea heaved and foamed far down below. _Violet, you fool. _She thought clearly. Then she started to climb. She concentrated on stepping in the right places. She just looked down once, and saw the deck far below, and the men and officers standing staring up. _That's a long way. Not as bad as I thought, though. _

She reached the fighting platform and stood, a large grin spreading over her face.

'Let's not underestimate the lad.' Jack laughed, nudging Mr Pullings.

Violet unconsciously made a mistake. She forgot they were at war.

Soon the ship was asleep again. Violet was lying in a doze, when she heard something. Was that…it sounded like music? Trying not to wake the others, she slipped out of bed, pulled on her boots and tiptoed out. It was most definitely violin music, and it was coming from the Captain's cabin. She leaned against a door frame and listened. It was beautiful, heartrending and sad.

Stephen realised he'd left his book in Jack's cabin. He could still hear music, so Jack clearly wasn't asleep yet. He went to retrieve it, and in the dim light nearly walked into Violet standing outside Jack's cabin.

'Oh!' Violet jumped away, red-faced. The doctor raised an eyebrow. 'I was just listening…I didn't know Captain Aubrey could play.'

'Yes, he's awfully good.' Stephen smiled. 'I play the cello myself. We both enjoy music; strangely enough, that's how we became acquainted.'

'How? You met at a concert and got on well, I suppose?'

'Not exactly,' Stephen gave a short laugh. 'Well, we both attended a concert. I was seated next to Jack, and he kept tapping on the arm of his chair and humming. Well, it was insufferable! So I nudged him to make him stop.' The doctor gave a short cough. 'It seems it was a harder nudge than I meant, and Jack was angry, and well, we agreed on a duel.'

Violet spluttered. 'A duel? You and Captain Aubrey!'

'Yes,' Stephen interrupted, slightly miffed at Violet's amusement. 'We never had the duel. Jack was given a commission on a ship – a small, leaky ship, but a ship nonetheless. He was so delighted he decided to offer me the position of surgeon onboard instead. We've been good friends ever since.'

They were interrupted by the captain himself opening the door suddenly. They'd been so caught up in Stephen's story; they hadn't noticed the music had stopped.

'Ah, Jack. Forgive me, I think I left my…' Stephen began. Jack smiled and handed him the book. His gaze fell on Violet, who was starting to feel rather embarrassed. 'Not asleep, Mr DeVere?' he asked gruffly.

'No, I…' Violet felt silly, saying that she was standing in the draughty corridor outside the captain's room listening to his music.

'Mr DeVere was telling me how much he enjoys music.' Stephen stepped in. Violet glanced up at him gratefully.

'I was also telling him how well you play, Jack. Sometime you and I must play for him; we haven't had an audience in too long.'

Jack shrugged, and retreated back into his cabin, firmly closing the door.

_Strange,_ the doctor thought to himself. _It's not like Jack to be shy about showing off his talents._

In the early morning, Violet woke and went to relieve Mr Hollom. It was little early, but she couldn't sleep, and she thought Mr Hollom would be grateful for the extra sleep. She stood on deck and strained to see through the fog. She heard voices, and made out Mr Hollom and Mr Calamy standing together. Peter had adopted the sharp tone he seemed to use with Mr Hollom, who seemed even more nervous than usual.

Bits and pieces of the conversation drifted over to Violet. _Not sure…it's your watch…_and then Peter suddenly turned and gave the order to beat to quarters. Some men were already awake and busy, but now the whole ship came awake.

In no time at all, Jack and the officers were awake and all men were at their stations. Mr Hollom remained where he was, and Violet stood a little way behind with Peter and the others.

'What's the matter?' she whispered.

'Hollom thought he saw something.'

'What?'

'I don't know. I didn't see it. A shape or something in the fog. It could be the ship we're chasing.'

'The Acheron?'

'Could be. But he didn't want to give the order. Said he wasn't sure.'

Peter gave a disparaging snort. Violet thought this was unfair. 'He probably didn't want to risk giving the order and getting everyone all worked up in case he was wrong.'

'We're at war, Victor. Now isn't the best time for self-doubt.'

'Leave him alone, Peter. He's trying his best, he just doesn't think he can do anything right. You wouldn't understand, you've never doubted yourself in your life!' Violet's voice had risen slightly in anger, and Mr Pullings cast a reproving glance at them. Both mids were silenced and looked away, but when Violet looked up, Mr Pullings was still staring searchingly at her, but looked away when she met his gaze.

Jack was scanning the horizon.

'You did right.' He told Mr Hollom. The mids began to disperse, but Jack remained at the side, looking out. Violet followed his gaze. Hang on…she narrowed her eyes, but the fleeting, shapeless shadow had gone. She glanced up at Jack. His eyes widened and he stiffened. The next moment or two seemed to last a lifetime. Jack leapt away from the side and shouted at the top of his lungs down the length of the ship, 'Down! All hands down!' his eyes fell on Violet before the words had even left his mouth, and he grabbed her shoulder and threw her down on the hard wooden deck with surprising violence. Violet's mind worked at top speed. As Jack began to shout, she deducted he had seen the ship, the enemy, the Acheron. As he grasped her shoulder, she realised the Acheron was firing at them. And as she hit the deck, cannon balls ripped through the Surprise.


	7. Chapter 7

**7. Heaven-sent Fog**

The cannon-fire tore through the rigging and sails. Splinters and pieces of wood rained down on the men, jagged and deadly. Ropes flew in the air like snakes. What was probably only a matter of seconds seemed like a lifetime to Violet. She lay face-down on the deck, wood and debris falling and bouncing around her. Within those seconds, she'd fully planned out what she needed to do, where she needed to go. The moment the firing stopped, Jack, Mr Pullings and the other senior officers were on their feet barking out orders. Mr Pullings began pulling the mids up from where they lay, terrified, on the decks. He knew they only had a small window of time till the enemy reloaded and fired again. They had already done a great deal of damage.

Mr Pullings noted with surprise and approval that he had no need to urge Mr DeVere to his feet. The boy instantly leapt up and ran to his post at the cannon. _That boy's going to be a wonderful officer, _he thought briefly.

'FIRE!'

The Surprise retaliated, but to Violet's horror, the shot did not even penetrate the Acheron's hull. The Acheron's return did. The ship rocked and swayed, groaning in pain, and Violet felt a sudden, stabbing fear. _The rudder, _she thought. Her fears were not unfounded.

The captain and other senior officers looked grim. The coxswain, Mr Bonden, was sent down over the side to check the damage.

'Rudder's gone!' he shouted up, his face grimly set. 'Steering don't answer, sir.'

Captain Aubrey set his jaw. Violet ran over the horrible facts in her head. The Acheron had already done some serious damage. The ship needed repairs, and she needed them now. Their shot would not penetrate their enemy's hull – why not? Now wasn't the time to worry about that. They needed to flee. They had a chance of escaping in the fog, this heaven-sent fog, but the rudder was shot away. They were sitting ducks. Everyone looked to Jack. He was silent, thinking.

'Run out the boats.' He said aloud.

Three of the little boats were tethered to the huge shape of the crippled ship, full of men rowing with all their might. Violet found herself commanding one. Without even thinking about it, she climbed down a makeshift rope ladder, swinging precariously between one of the boats and the ship, over the heaving dark water.

'Pull!' she shouted. 'Come on, men.' Violet had had no need to try and deepen her voice after the first few days, as the perpetual shouting at the top of one's lungs had made her voice almost permanently hoarse and deep.

As she automatically gave commands, a tiny voice in her head whispered malignantly, _you're going to die. You're going to be shot to bits or drown out here, and no one will ever know. _Violet shouted even louder to drown out the voice in her head.

They could no longer see the ominous shadow of the Acheron. _Have we lost them? _She dared to wonder.

Jack gave the order for silence. Everyone, included the occupants of the little boats, fell deadly silent. Violet's breathing seemed unnecessarily loud, so she held her breath. As they sat their in total silence, every second seeming to last a lifetime, Violet found herself wondering what Victor was doing in Brazil.

Victor was not in Brazil. He had spent an unknown amount of time down in the bowels of the tiny, leaky vessel, being horribly seasick. At his darkest moments, he did consider whether being shot at on board a warship could be any worse than this. Days melted into weeks. Then their drunk, incompetent captain ran the ship onto rocks off the coast of Spain. Victor and his professor ended up in an even smaller and leakier boat, rowing desperately for the shoreline, barely visible through the heavy rain.

'Where are we?' Victor asked the professor, as they both cowered miserably in the rain.

'A Coruña, I believe.' He replied disconsolately. 'I'm sorry this has not gone the way I planned, Victor. Who knows when we'll get another passage? We'll just have to stay in A Coruña until we do. Do you have money?'

'Yes. Not much though.'

'Neither do I.' the professor replied gloomily.

'Although, I do have an aunt who lives here, my sister should be there by now.'

The professor nodded. Victor had briefly explained his own predicament and that of Violet.

'How would your aunt feel about putting you up? As I said, I've no idea how long we'll be here.'

'I don't know. There's only one way to find out.'

As he finished speaking, one of the sailors rowing the tiny boat gestured impatiently for the professor and Victor to help with the rowing. After a mere ten minutes or so, Victor's muscles were aching and throbbing, and the palms of his hands red raw with the rough, splintery wood. _I would have made a terrible sailor, _he thought with a slight laugh. The man next to him gave him a funny look, and shook his head. _Mad. Quite mad. Poor boy._

Jane Tavers was sitting quietly in her cool, comfortable parlour one bright morning. She was calm and content. No husband or children to worry about. All was peaceful and quiet.

Poor woman.

'There's a Mr Victor DeVere to see you ma'am,' a maid popped up from nowhere, disturbing the quiet.

Jane sat up very straight. Victor? Not little Victor. Surely not.

'Mrs Tavers…' Victor began, the moment he entered the room.

'Victor, darling! I can't believe it's you! It's been so long, but I recognized you in an instant…' she rushed over, and then hesitated. 'Are your parents with you?'

Victor snorted, but at a nudge from the professor turned it into an awkward cough.

'No, ma'am. Just me and…'

'Your sister? Dear little Violet, she was such a sweet little thing. I daresay she'll be a young woman now.'

Victor stood very still. He suddenly felt as if he could not breathe.

'You mean…she is not here?'

'Violet? No, of course not. Why should she be? Victor, darling? What is it? Victor?'

Victor didn't answer. He sat down hard suddenly, uninvited. His mouth was dry. 'She should have been here by now.' He said aloud, more to himself than anyone, but Jane heard. 'If you mean Violet is coming over, she'll have a difficult time. What with the war…'

'With the _what_?' Victor almost shouted.

'The war, my dear,' Jane replied, amused, 'with Napoleon. Where have you been this last month or so?'

'I was on a ship, sailing for Brazil.'

'Well, you won't have heard then.'

'Violet is on that ship,' he mumbled to himself. 'She might be killed.'

'What?' Jane's sharp ears caught his last words.

Victor sighed, and seemed to shrink down in the chair. 'It's a long story ma'am.'

Jane raised an eyebrow. 'Then we'd better get started, then.'


	8. Chapter 8

**8. Repairs **

_**Ok, I'm not sure whether I should continue with this one or not, **____** please review and tell me whether you want me to continue or not.**_

Violet let out her breath with a gasp. It felt like she'd been holding it forever. They'd lost them, they'd escaped the Acheron. The boats were recalled, but everyone instinctively kept silent, just in case.

Stephen intercepted Mr Pullings, who was striding purposefully across the deck. Mr Pullings stopped, and involuntarily recoiled at the doctor's appearance. His hands and apron were covered in blood. 'I do apologise,' Stephen mumbled, self-consciously fiddling with his bloodstained apron, 'there are a good many wounded men, some badly. I came to inquire whether any of the midshipmen could be spared to assist me.'

Mr Pullings frowned. 'Do you not have an assistant, sir?'

'I do, and I am afraid he has no aptitude for the work.'

'Whom did you have in mind?'

'Mr DeVere. I fancy he may be of use to me. If I can prevail on him to help me, of course.'

'I'm sure he can be spared. No doubt we will go to the nearest port to refit.'

Violet was surprised and not a little nervous about the helping the doctor. However, she was flattered by his choice of her and his confidence in her.

Stephen was not disappointed in Violet. She paled initially, at the sight of the red surgery, but persevered nevertheless. Stephen was no butcher, and she learnt quickly.

Jack passed the surgery. Then he stopped and retraced his steps, looking inside. Yes, he had not been mistaken. There sat Mr DeVere, sewing up a ghastly cut on a man's arm.

'Mr DeVere!'

Violet jumped, and the men let out a yelp of pain as she pricked him with the needle.

'Sir! C-Captain Aubrey, I was just…'

'He is helping me, Jack.' Stephen called, from the other end of the room.

Jack raised an eyebrow. 'Well, Stephen, the senior officers and I are discussing our predicament, and what we shall do next. Your presence is required.'

'Surely there is nothing to discuss. We must go to the nearest port to refit.'

'Perhaps not.'

'Jack, even I can see that the ship needs urgent repairs.'

'She does. But we may not need to go into port.'

'Now, I am no sailor, but…'

'You say it yourself, Stephen. You are no sailor, and know little of such matters.'

Violet hunched over, trying to seem invisible. Jack's voice had an edge to it, and Stephen was going a little red in the face, as he did when he was riled. This was the closest they'd ever had to an argument in her presence, and Violet felt very much in the way.

Jack left, and Stephen followed, albeit reluctantly. 'Can you hold the fort, Mr DeVere?'

'Of course, Doctor. After I have finished Mr Ridding, there's no one else to see to.'

'Could you take some food to Mr Blakeney, check his dressings, and perhaps keep him company, if he is up to it?'

'I will.'

Stephen smiled at her and left.

'William?' Violet whispered. William Blakeney seemed to be asleep, but stirred when he heard her voice. 'Victor? Is that you?'

'Yes. I'm sorry, did I wake you?'

'Yes, but stay and talk to me. Please.'

William's right arm was badly broken and gashed. Stephen had carefully and painstakingly picked out every tiny splinter of wood, cleaned the wounds, and set the arm best he could, but Violet couldn't help wincing as she drew back the dressings.

'Is it so very bad?' William asked anxiously, intently watching her reaction.

'No, no,' Violet lied. 'Looks worse than it is, I daresay.'

'Do you think…do you think I'll lose it? My arm, I mean?'

'I don't think so.' Violet replied, carefully avoiding his gaze. Stephen had in fact confided to her that he feared very much that gangrene would set in, forcing him to amputate to save William's life.

'Is it painful?' Violet asked, trying to change the subject.

'Yes, but Doctor Maturin is going to give me something for the pain. Has Peter asked about me? He hasn't been down to see me yet. It's dark down here.' William's voice wobbled ever so slightly.

'Of course! The Doctor hasn't allowed anyone in while he was seeing to the wounded. I'm only here because I've been helping him. He'll be down as soon as he's off watch.' Violet rose to go.

'You aren't going?' William's voice rose, and Violet felt a lump come to her throat at his plaintive tone. 'I…I can't really sleep,' he stammered, blushing, 'and it's so lonely…' his voice broke, 'and I'm afraid I'm going to die.' He sniffled frantically, and rubbed his nose (with his left hand, of course), embarrassed.

'Oh, William, you mustn't think you're going to die! After all, it's only an arm.'

'I keep thinking that it might get infected, and no one would notice, and Father said if the gangrene gets to your heart you die.'

'Doctor Maturin would never let that happen. He's an excellent doctor, and I've had plenty of opportunity to watch him.' Violet smiled reassuringly.

William sniffed again. 'Of course,' he mumbled, 'you're right, I'm being silly. I'm being selfish too; you must be ever so tired.'

Violet was so tired. Her eyelids were so heavy, and she could barely place one foot in front of the other.

'I'm not tired.' She said to William. 'Of course I'll stay.'

Stephen opened the door to check on young Mr Blakeney some hours later. He peered in and smiled. William was peacefully asleep, and Mr DeVere was sitting by him, leaning on a little table containing the remains of the food. Her head was buried in her arms, snoring quietly. Stephen debated what to do. He decided against moving Mr DeVere. He took off his jacket and spread it over her shoulders, and tiptoed away, quietly closing the door behind him.

Violet was rudely awoken. She moved in her sleep, shaking the little table and knocking the food bowl onto the floor with a crash. She was awake in an instant, and for a horrible moment could not fathom where she was.

'Mr DeVere?' Stephen called.

Ah. Of course. The doctor's surgery. Violet rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand, ran her fingers complacently through her hair. That would have to do.

'Doctor?'

Stephen was seated at his desk, his brow furrowed, deep in thought.

'Tell me, Victor,' he said aloud, 'you have a better grasp of seamanship than I. Is it possible to refit at sea?'

Violet sighed. Not a question one wanted after a poor night's sleep.

'Well, um, let me see…yes, it could. Not very well, though.'

'Because that is what Jack…Captain Aubrey…intends to do.'

'But…why?'

'He wants to go after the Acheron. He says that to go into port to refit will take too long, so we will do it at sea as quickly as possible and then give chase.'

Violet couldn't believe her ears. 'But…the Acheron is a far superior ship! Supposing we can even catch it, how on earth are we to take her?'

Stephen sighed and shook his head. 'I do not know. If you ask me, Jack is simply…' he stopped. It wasn't quite appropriate to be speaking about Jack this way. Although Jack was, to him, his old friend, he was the leader to these men.

'Never mind.'

Violet had guessed some of what Stephen was about to say, and why he'd decided against saying it. She smiled awkwardly and left. As she was leaving, she could have sworn she heard Stephen say, 'Where will it all end, I wonder?'


	9. Chapter 9

**9. Ambush**

_**Hello everyone. I'm back. Sorry about the delay, my computer's been playing silly beggars. I hate technology.**_

Refitting at sea was a arduous, fiddly process which Violet did not enjoy at all. Everyone was so busy concentrating on their work, they never saw the Acheron reappear. Violet found she was growing accustomed to the chaos and bloodshed of battle, and no longer quailed at the most horrific of injuries. Down in the surgery, she saw plenty of them. It seemed as if one minute they were alone in the vast sea, the next the Acheron was upon them. 'How did they...' was the incredulous, unspoken question on everyone's lips. Jack said nothing, only tightened his lips. Violet and Stephen could almost see the cogs in his brain turning, trying to figure out how this mystery enemy captain had outwitted him again.

Peter Calamy was chosen to be 'captain' of the makeshift decoy ship Jack used to draw away the Acheron. Violet was standing behind her captain as he stood, deep in thought, and heard him murmur, 'I will not let him beat me again.'

'We outwitted him again, sir,' Violet piped up, then instantly regretted it, as Jack turned and fixed her with a piercing stare.

'We did,' Jack conceded after an agonising second or two. 'But then again, it is dark.'

'It doesn't matter. We got away. Sir.' She added. 'I guarantee he's angrier with himself for letting us outwit him again.'

The corner of his mouth twitched. 'Maybe so. But I can't let him get away.' His voice dropped again, almost as if he was talking to himself. Violet wondered if she should slip away, and started to back away.

'Going somewhere, Mr DeVere?' Jack raised his voice without turnin around. Violet stopped moving away, and Jack turned to face her again.

'I think our troubles have just began. There's bad weather ahead, and between you and I, Mr Calamy and Mr Hollom are clashing more than ever. Yes, I had noticed their dislike of each other,' he smiled at Violet's surprised face.

'I tried to help,' she sighed, forgetting that she was speaking to the captain, 'but Peter insists that Hollom is lazy. Poor Hollom is terribly nervous and shy, and doesn't believe he can do anything right to start with, and all this is making him worse. So Peter is convinced more than ever that...' she stopped abruptly, realising that she was pouring out her worries about her friends to the captain of the ship. The captain in question was laughing quietly.

'Sorry.' Violet mumbled. _Wonderful. Now I'm blushing like a schoolgirl. A schoolboy, technically. Do schoolboys blush? I'm sure they must. He must think I'm a fantastic fool._

'You do well to try and keep the peace.' Jack interrupted her thoughts. 'But I fear there isn't much you can do. The men have taken up against Hollom, and he needs a friend like you. And now you'd better get some sleep. You'll need it. We've hard times ahead.'

Then Jack smiled. It was a genuine smile, and Violet was so dazzled that she forgot that she was expected to salute. She stepped back and realised that he was still looking expectantly at her. Panic flooded her brain, and she acted entirely without thinking.

She curtsied.

It was a rather good curtsy, her mother would have been proud. If Violet's face was red before, it was positively beetroot now.

_Why...why..._ she forced herself to rise from the curtsy. Remaining on the deck in that position was going to do absolutely no good whatsoever. Quite the opposite, in fact. Jack's eyes widened in astonishment, and his jaw dropped. For the first time, probably in his entire life, Jack Aubrey could find nothing to say.

Violet remembered, and gave a feeble, awkward salute. Then she smiled weakly, and backed away. Her nerve held for a few steps, then she turned and fled away. She tripped and fell headlong down a hatch. Jack remained standing stock-still where he was, listening to the series of bumps and a quiet "ow" that wafted up from the hatch.

Stephen stuck his head out of the hatch to see what the commotion was about. 'Jack, what on earth is...oh...' he stopped. Jack was bent double on the deck, crying with laughter.

Up on the fighting platform, Mr Pullings was intently watching the goings on below on deck. He hadn't seen Jack laugh like that for years. _That is a first, _ he thought.


	10. Chapter 10

**10. Jonah**

Stephen stormed into the surgery. Violet was in there reading a book, as usual (a little too often, Mr Pullings frequently complained), and looked up startled. Stephen took no notice of her and deposited a bag full of something or other down on a bench with a crash. He took various tools and instruments out of the bag one by and one and roughly shoved them back into their respective places. Violet watched in surprise for minute or two before she ventured, 'What's the matter, Doctor?'

'Captain Aubrey,' Stephen replied, an unfamiliar edge in his voice, 'has seen fit to go back on certain promises he made to me, for the sake of his own pride.'

'Oh. Is this about those islands you wanted to see?'

'Yes.' Stephen stopped what he was doing and sighed, his anger suddenly deflating. 'Jack promised I might have a day or two to inspect the islands. It was nothing unreasonable, surely we can spare a day or two. You would have thought they'd be glad to have another few days to make more repairs, and I'd only be in the way. But Jack has decided we will pursue the Acheron immediately. They've no time for my damned hobbies. That's what he said.'

'Oh.' Violet felt sorry for him. She'd never seen him so excited as he'd been when Jack agreed to the expedition. Stephen found life on board the ship hard, and studying the occasional natural wonders they stumbled upon was one of his few pleasures.

'We'll have to sail around the island, couldn't you walk across and meet us at the other end?' Violet suggested.

'I said that. He said no.' The doctor replied bluntly before turning his back. Violet took the hint and left.

For the first time, Violet felt a touch of anger towards the captain. _Stephen's right, _she thought. _It is his pride that's making him act like this. He can't bear to be beaten, and he's prepared to do anything to catch the Acheron. Where _will _it all end?_

Jack caught sight of Violet crossing the deck, and leaning on the railing. Mr Pullings followed his gaze. 'Mr DeVere looks preoccupied.' Mr Pullings murmured. Jack gave a short laugh. 'My guess would be that Stephen has just told him that I refused to let him explore, and he is having an internal grumble.'

'It isn't his place.' Mr Pullings shot back. 'He must have too much time on his hands. I'll see that he's busier in future.' Privately he thought that it wasn't Doctor Maturin's place to go gossiping either, but he knew that Jack wouldn't stand for that. Stephen was still his friend.

'Ah, leave the boy alone. He won't let his personal feelings get in the way of his duty.'

'Are you sure, sir?'

'Positive. That boy is shaping up to be an excellent seaman. I don't remember any other mid being as advanced as he is. What do you think?'

Mr Pullings fidgeted. 'I can't fault his skills, sir. And he obeys orders.'

'But?' Jack prompted.

He hesitated. 'I can't put my finger on it. I just...don't feel comfortable around him.'

Jack snorted. 'Thomas, really. It's not like you to be put out of countenance by a young mid. Certainly not a little titch like Victor.'

Mr Pullings gave a wry smile. 'He is small, isn't he? Confident, too. And I must say, sir, I've seen more masculine women.'

Jack gave a hoot of laughter. 'Me too, Thomas. Still, the men seem to like him, and he gets on well with the other officers, to say nothing of Stephen. The two of them are thick as thieves. Try and give him a little extra training, if you can.'

Violet wiped sweat from her brow. Her mother had once said, 'Women don't _sweat_. Pigs _sweat. _Men _perspire_, women _glow_.'

She was wrong, Violet decided. People most definitely did sweat, in abundance. The thick coats and collars and hats were nothing less than torture. The able seaman were allowed to strip off their shirts, and the already depleted water supplies became more and more precious. Some time after the Galapagos incident, (Stephen and Jack had more or less patched up their friendship since then), the wind had disappeared, to be replaced by blazing sun and a flat sea without so much as a ripple. The officers and even Jack eventually abandoned their dignity and worked in their shirts along with everyone else. Violet felt uncomfortable working without her waistcoat and coat, as she continually worried that the cloth she wound tightly around her chest would loosen. Her workload seemed to have doubled, which didn't help the situation. On the day they sailed away from the Galapagos island Mr Pullings descended on her and, without warning or reason, gave her additional duties. She was more tired than ever, and there always seemed to be more work to do, and it was always _her_ that Mr Pullings selected to do it. Working with Stephen was a thing of the past. And the end result was rarely worth it. Mr Pullings was never happy. There was always something she hadn't done right, or should be done again.

Peter and William were aghast at the extra work Violet got. She was so preoccupied with fitting everything into twenty four hours that she didn't notice what was happening to Hollom.

Violet burst into the mids' quarters one day, and found Hollom sitting in the corner snuffling miserably. When he saw her, he blushed scarlet with embarrassment and hastily wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. Violet didn't hesitate, she rushed over and, much to his mortification, sat next to him and slid her arm around his shoulders, demanding to know what was the matter. He shuffled away awkwardly, wriggling away, and Violet remembered sadly that this wasn't the done thing. Anyone else on the ship would have turned away and left him, and acted as if nothing had happened.

'What's the matter?' Violet asked again, quietly. Hollom slumped over and coved his face with his hands. 'They've taken up against me.'

'The men?'

'Not just them. All the others. They think I'm cursed.'

'What? Why would they think that?'

Hollom laughed bitterly. 'Where have you been the last few weeks?'

'I'm been so busy – Mr Pullings has just loaded me down with work. I've barely had time to sleep and eat, let alone have time to really talk to anyone.'

'Since we lost the wind, and it stopped raining, everyone started whispering _Jonah_.'

'Whispering what?'

'Jonah. You know the story. They've decided it's me.'

'That's stupid. Why you?'

'Do you remember that storm, when the mast came down and that seaman was drowned?'

'Yes, I remember. I liked him.'

'So did everyone. The mast fell as I started to climb up. And it was on my watch the Acheron was spotted.'

'None of that was your fault!'

'That's not what they think. And now they think it's my fault we lost our wind. It's getting worse, especially since that incident with Joseph Nagle.'

Violet bit her lip. Privately, she thought the captain had been too harsh, flogging Joseph for a little thing like failing to salute, and she knew Stephen agreed with her. But now she was worried for Hollom.

'You believe it too.' She said aloud. 'About yourself.'

Hollom's silence said it all.

'You can't believe them, Hollom! We'll get a wind any day now, you'll see.'

'Not while I'm on board.'

'Of course we will! All this is because of Joseph – he's popular and he's turned the men against you. They'll forget, believe me. You do believe me, don't you?'

'I believe you.' Hollom murmured, and forced a smile. 'I have to go. I'm on watch soon.' He left, leaving Violet sitting alone. 'Oh dear.' She groaned, letting her head fall into her hands. He didn't believe a word she'd just said. He really thought it was all his fault. Damn Joseph Nagle and all superstitious seaman, was her last thought before falling asleep.

They were awoken in the middle of the night by a scream of 'Man overboard!' Violet's blood ran cold. She pushed past sleepy men onto the deck. William Blakeney was speaking to the captain. 'Who's gone over?' Violet's own voice sounded hollow and she knew the answer before she asked the question.

'Hollom.' William replied, his voice breaking. 'It's no good.' He called to the men who were throwing out ropes into the black water. 'He just...' he turned back to Violet. 'He just jumped. I didn't know what he was going to do. He picked up a cannon ball. He just jumped over.'


End file.
